Wherever I May Roam
by aubreyann012479
Summary: George Singer's wanted to go out on her own for a long time now, and when Dean Winchester gives her the opportunity, she can't help but jump at it. Who knew things would get so complicated? Dean/OC R&R Please.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm just now starting this, but I wanted to at least post this first chapter, and maybe a second, to see what kind of feed back it would get. So if you like it, let me know. I'm going to be working on it quite a bit, unless you tell me it's awful or something.

In this story, Dean's 23, George is 21, Jo is 16, and Sam may not be in it til much later, but he's 19.

**Wherever I May Roam**

"Dad, I'll be fine. I'm going to be with Dean. You know he'd never let anything happen to me." Bobby Singer sighed as his daughter pleaded with him. She may have been twenty-one, but he still didn't feel comfortable letting her run off to fight the supernatural.

"George, I just don't think it's a good idea. Since Sam left, that boy's been reckless."

"Dad, I've been trained to hunt since I was seven. I shot my first gun at five. I think I'll be ok." George gave her dad her most confidant look. She knew he'd see it her way. She needed to go out on her own. It was what she'd been trained for her entire life, and the fact that she had finally convinced Dean Winchester to let her come with him was a feat all on its own.

"Okay, fine. But at the first sign of trouble, I'm dragging your ass back here without another word, understand?" Bobby's voice was firm. He didn't like the fact that his daughter was right, and secretly he had feared for the day she ran off with the Winchester boy. He had seen it coming since she was five and Dean was eight. He caught Dean kissing her behind a pile of scrap metal cars. When they got older, their relationship had formed into more of a brother sister thing, but he could see the underlying tones in the way they interacted with each other.

"Got it, Dad. I'll be fine. You'll see." She gave him her best smile and kissed his cheek. Dean had already loaded her bags up in the trunk of the Impala. "I love you, Daddy. I'll call you as soon as we get to Memphis."

"Yeah, yeah. I love you too." He said back. He gave a pointed glare at Dean. "Keep your hands to yourself, boy. You're like a son to me, but if you so much as touch my daughter I'll rip your hands off and feed them to Rumsfeld." Dean's eyes blew wide in fear as he subconsciously rubbed his hands together imagining the large dog gnawing on his hands. George playfully smacked her father's arm.

"Bye, Daddy." She whispered in his ear, then bounced over to the Impala and crawled into the front seat. Bobby watched as the car pulled out of his gravel drive, kicking up dust, and carrying the little girl who meant more than the world to him.

George stretched out in the Impala and took off the flip flops she was wearing placing her feet out the window. Dean shot her a glare that she ignored. He was almost like her older brother. One of the people, like his father and younger brother, that had always just been around. They were hunters, three of the very best. It was well known in the hunting community, that if there was trouble, John Winchester and his boys, were the first to call.

"Georgie, if you don't put your feet back in the car, I'm going to break them off." Dean harped.

"Don't call me Georgie, Deano." She shot back, but brought her long legs up to her chest instead. She reached for the radio, but was stopped by a hand grabbing hers.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake hole." He stated firmly. George pouted.

"But…" She started. He just fixed her with a glare, and she pouted.

She fidgeted in her seat. They had only been on the road for a couple hours and already she was bored. The soft hum of the Impala's engine, and Led Zeppelin playing quietly in the background was almost enough to put her to sleep, instead she decided to bug Dean some more.

"How's Sammy?" She asked. Dean winced at the mention of his younger brother who had abandoned him almost two years ago to go to school in California.

"Dunno, don't talk to him." Dean shrugged, trying to keep his emotions in check. "How's that boyfriend of yours?" He asked cockily, knowing he could get her where it hurt too. He had heard that they had broken up a couple weeks ago.

"Dunno. Prolly still recovering from the broken nose I gave him." She answered back.

"You gave your boyfriend a broken nose?" He asked, unbelieving.

"No means no, Dean. He had to learn that the hard way." She said, like it was nothing. She saw Dean's grip tighten on the wheel.

"What did he do?" He half growled.

"It was nothing. We were drunk; he tried to push things farther than I was willing to go. I made sure his nose got up close and personal with his brain. Then I split. I just hope I didn't cause any brain damage. Lord knows, that boy can't afford to lose any function up there."

Dean let out a small laugh. He could just imagine the look of the boy's face after George clocked him one. She might not look it, but the girl packed one powerful punch, that he had the unfortunate opportunity of being on the wrong end of before.

"What's his name?" Dean asked, nonchalantly.

"You're not going to kill him." George answered, giving Dean a pointed look. She knew what he was thinking.

"I wasn't going to." He replied coyly.

"Sure, what just maim him?" She asked. He just smirked and refocused his attention back to the road. It didn't take long for George to curl up and fall asleep, and before she knew it, they were pulling into a worn down hotel on the outskirts of some Podunk town. Dean gently shook her awake, but startled, she sent a fist flying towards him. He reacted quick enough to catch it, but missed her knee as it caught his stomach.

"Fuck, George. It's just me." He yelped, trying to catch his breath. She looked up at him sheepishly. His body was pressing against hers in all the wrong places, and his face was lingering over her. It was like one of those romantic movies where the guy accidentally lands on top of the girl, and their eyes catch each other, the boy leans closer, and just as they're about to kiss…

Dean cleared his throat and moved quickly off of George. He had made a promise to himself a long time ago that he would never go there with her. Not to mention Bobby's threat from earlier still loomed over his head. George took in her surroundings and frowned as she saw the crummy motel.

"Where are we?" She asked as she stepped out of the Impala and stretched.

"In between Omaha and Kansas City." Dean answered as he grabbed their bags and made his way inside. He pulled a key out of his pocket.

"You already got a room?" George wondered how long she had been out. He nodded.

"You sleep like the dead, by the way." He smirked at her as they walked into the room. She frowned at the brown, stained curtains, and discolored bedspreads. The room had two full beds in it, a couch, a desk, and a bathroom. She didn't even want to look in the bathroom. Dean threw his bag on the bed closest to the door, and her bags on the other.

"I'm going to take a shower. You better get some sleep, we got another ten hour drive tomorrow, and then you have a lot of researching to do, little lady." He flashed her that infamous Winchester grin and walked into the bathroom.

She turned her nose up at the thought of spending most of the day tomorrow either in the car or in the Memphis library. It had been part of their deal. In order for Dean to agree to let her come along with him, she promised to do most of the research since she knew he hated that part. She also promised to cook him at least three hot meals a week. That was more for her. She was a trim girl, all muscle and legs as her dad would say, and she was not going to get fat eating greasy diner food everyday.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as the bathroom door opened revealing Dean wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and a smile. Her breath caught in her throat. He was still wet from the shower. She noticed the way little beads of water dripped from his cropped hair down his chiseled chest. It was no secret the Winchesters were all attractive men. Even John, Dean and Sam's father was pretty hot as far as older men go. George took a deep breath. "Geez, Dean, put on some clothes, would ya?" She hoped that what came through was disgust, not lust.

"Come on, Georgie, you know you like what you see." He smirked.

George glared at him. "Don't call me Georgie. I am not a 13 year old girl anymore, Dean."

"Oh I am well aware." He replied back in his sexy voice. George just rolled her eyes.

"Next time I hear you call me Georgie, I'm going to tell everyone I know what your childhood nickname was." Dean's eyes went wide.

"You wouldn't dare." He growled at her.

"Don't be so sure, Deanie Bear." His eyes formed into slits as he glared at her. "You love it too. Me and Sammy would run around the house yelling for our Deanie Bear. Hell, that one time we even got you to dress up as a Deanie Bear for Halloween." George couldn't contain her laughter and was now lying on the bed holding her stomach picturing a frowning eight year old Dean dressed up in a teddy bear costume.

"I hate you." He stated simply, pouting.

"Don't pout Deanie Bear." She said, causing another fit of laughter. Dean walked over to her and towered above her on the bed, she stopped laughing and looked up at him.

"Ok, I won't call you Georgie, if we never speak of this EVER again." He pleaded with her.

"Deal." She said, offering him her hand. He shook it grudgingly.

They each fell asleep quickly that night, George with her .45 under her pillow, Dean with his large knife. Growing up, hunting evil things as they do, one tends to make enemies, and like Bobby and John always said, it's better to be safe, than sorry.

The next morning came too soon for both of the tired hunters. They slowly got out of bed, George grabbed the shower while Dean went and got breakfast. She hoped that he would get something mildly healthy for her, but instead he showed up with a greasy bacon and egg sandwich from the gas station down the road. She ate it, promising herself to get some running in later that night.

The car ride wasn't nearly as long as she thought it would be, with Dean's driving they cut their ten hour drive down to eight hours. Still, with restroom stops, and another diner for another greasy meal, they didn't reach Tennessee until nightfall. There was nothing they could do until the morning, so they decided that hitting up the nearest bar was in order.

"Your wearing that?" Dean asked staring at the woman, scantily clad in tight jeans and a halter top that barely covered her mid-drift.

"So?" She asked him. He just shook his head and threw her a black cover up. "Come on, it's not even that bad." She yelled at him as he walked out the door.

"Really? What would your dad have to say about that?" He asked turning to face her.

"He's not here. What does it matter?" She asked.

"Just put on the jacket, Singer." George huffed, but put on the cover up anyway, knowing that once they got to the bar, she'd take it off.

She smiled as she walked in the small biker bar. It reminded her of Harvelle's Roadhouse. One of her best friends, more like a little sister, lived there, along with a woman that had been like a second mother to her after her own had passed. The smell of smoke and stale beer hit her nose, bringing with it the nostalgia of home.

"I'm going to try to win us some money at the pool tables, stay out of trouble." Dean stated as he walked off.

George shrugged off her jacket, much to Dean's displeasure, and walked up to the bar.

"So, which of you fine gentlemen are going to buy me a drink?" She asked the rough looking men sitting at the bar. The one sitting next to her flashed her a toothy grin.

"What are you drinking, sweetheart?" He asked. He was the typical burly biker dude. Long beard, long hair, covered in tattoos. She just smiled sweetly.

"I'll have whatever you're having, honey."

A few drinks later, an ACDC song come on the jukebox and George just had to get up and dance. Her burley bike dude and his buddies were hooting and hollering as she got up on the bar, and started dancing. She made a quick look around the bar, but couldn't see Dean. She silently thanked whoever was watching over her that he probably couldn't see her or wasn't paying attention.

It was about that time she felt a hand wrap around her arm, yanking her down from the bar and away from her new friends. She whipped her head around to find a pissed off Winchester glaring at her. It wasn't the one she was expecting though.

"Georgia May Singer, what in the hell so you think you're doing?"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I own nothing. Though, seriously, I would do things to Sam and Dean that would make Lucifer blush. Just kidding, sort of. Please let me know what you think, and if I should continue.

"Georgia May Singer, what in the hell so you think you're doing?" John Winchester's deep voice asked, he was glaring at her like a pissed off father.

"Hi, John." She replied sheepishly. He raised his eyebrows, and proceeded to drag her out of the bar. Dean was standing by his car looking like a teenager that just got caught sneaking out of the house.

"You know, Bobby told me that you two were working together. I told him that I thought it was a good idea, but now, I'm not so sure." He paused dramatically. "George, what the hell were you thinking walking into a bar dressed like that, flirting with men twice your age, dancing on bars? Your mother would be so disappointed in you." George felt like she had been slapped in the face. Her jaw dropped and tears formed in her eyes. "And Dean, you let her walk out of the house like that? Where the hell were you when she was dancing on the bar like nothing more than a two bit whore?" John turned to face his son, fixing him with a glare that even demons would be scared of.

"I told her to put on a jacket. Have you ever tried to control a Singer?" Dean tried to cover for himself. By the look on John's face, it wasn't working.

"Both of you get your asses back to the hotel, I'm leaving this town tonight, I expect a full report on this hunt by the end of the week." John stated.

"Yes, sir." Dean replied.

"Oh, and George, don't think I won't let your father know about this little stunt you pulled tonight." George dropped her head, but nodded. John stormed off and got into his big black truck.

"I'm heading to Oklahoma. Stay out of trouble." He said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean and George looked like they had just taken the beating of a lifetime as they sunk into the Impala's leather seats. Neither one said a word the entire way back to the hotel. They were both still reeling from John's verbal smackdown. George decided it was time to break the silence.

"So…that was interesting." She said slowly. They were both out of the car before Dean spoke. He looked at her over the hood of the Impala and shook his head.

"Yeah, I'd say so. Who knew you were Coyote Ugly in the flesh?" He smirked.

"Whatever. I was just having a good time." She replied.

"Yeah, we'll see about that good time once Bobby catches wind of this." His smirk was now a full blown grin. And like he could hear them talking from five states away, George's phone started ringing. She paled when she realized it was her father.

"Hey, Daddy." She said sweetly.

"Don't you 'hey, daddy' me. I just got a very interesting phone call from John Winchester. Care to explain?" He sounded pissed, and she could almost feel the heat radiating off him through the phone.

"It wasn't a big deal, Dad. I was just having some fun. We got into town, and it was too late to do any research so we went to the bar." She explained.

"Really? That's wonderful. Put Dean on the phone." He stated sarcastically.

She handed a frightened looking Dean the phone. He had always told her that vengeful spirits he could handle, demons no problem, but pissed off fathers terrified him more than anything, especially when it came to their daughters.

She could hear the verbal back lashing from across their hotel room. Every time Dean would open his mouth to say something; Bobby would start ripping him again. He looked thoroughly defeated when he finally hung up the phone.

"Thanks for throwing me under the bus." He glared at her.

"Sorry." She gave him a small smile. "What'd he say?"

"Between the cursing and life threatening?" He asked. "He said that I better watch you like a hawk, and apparently you don't get to drink whiskey anymore." She frowned. That was her drink of choice.

"This sucks." She sighed.

"I warned you." He smirked.

"I'm going to bed." She threw off her clothes, leaving her in a cami and her boy short panties. Dean couldn't help but notice her long legs leading up to the curve of her hips. He physically shook his head trying to rid himself of the dirty thoughts that were trying to make their way through.

The next morning they both woke with a start to a loud bang outside, George reaching for her gun, Dean his knife. They gave each other silent signals, as Dean opened the door, and George covered it.

A bruised and bloodied blonde fell through the door. George caught her just before she hit the floor. George looked past the swelling and cuts on the woman's face and saw that it was one of her best friends.

"Jo, honey, what the hell happened?" George asked as she pushed strands of blonde hair behind Jo Harvelle's ear.

The girl groaned in response. "Roadhouse…" She stopped to take a ragged breath, "Demons." George looked to Dean to see if he could make out what the girl was saying. He just shook his head. She decided that maybe Jo needed sometime to regroup before she could explain her appearance.

"Jo, let's get you to bed." George grunted as she picked the girl up off the ground, thankful when Dean came over to help. Once Jo was asleep, both hunters made their way outside.

"Who's that?" Dean asked.

"Her name is Jo Harvelle. Her mom owns a bar in Nebraska frequented by hunters." George sighed. "She's my best friend."

"What's she doing here?"

"I don't know. I need to call Ellen." George replied and grabbed her cell out of her pocket. Dean watched as the woman tried and tried to get a hold of someone, but it seemed no one was answering. His ears perked when he heard her sniffle and make one last phone call.

"Daddy?" She cried into the phone. Bobby Singer was as tough as they come, but the sound of his daughter crying was enough to scare the crap out of him.

"Baby, what is it?" He asked.

"Daddy, you need to get to The Roadhouse. Jo just showed up at our hotel room battered and bloody saying something about The Roadhouse and demons. Dad, I'm scared something happened to Ellen." George broke down.

"Is Jo ok?" Bobby asked. Jo Harvelle was like a second daughter to him.

"She's sleeping right now. I checked for any large injuries, but she seems to be fine. Just get to The Roadhouse, and call me."

"Will do, baby. Listen, I want you and Dean to make sure that you are careful. Salt on every window. Devil traps at every door, and if you run into anything, and I mean anything, Georgia May, that you can't handle, you call me or John. Got it?" He asked.

"Yeah, I promise, Dad." As she hung up the phone, she turned to Dean, whose eyes softened. He walked over to her and wrapped her in a big bear hug. She laughed, these hugs were what caused the nickname Deanie Bear to come about.

She took a deep breath. "Thanks, I needed that, Deanie Bear." She smiled through the tears.

"You get away with that only once." He looked at her, glad that she seemed to be back to normal. He had only seen George cry a handful of times, but only once since they had both grown up. It wasn't something he did well with.

"So, you gonna tell me what's going on?" He asked.

"Dad's going to The Roadhouse to check on Jo's mom, Ellen. We are going to finish this hunt, then head up there ourselves, unless my dad or Jo says different. We need to be extra careful, Dean. Salt and devil traps galore."

"I'm always careful." Dean smirked. They made their way inside, but quickly realized that with an injured Jo sleeping in one bed, they would have to share.

"I keep a loaded .45 under my pillow at all times. Try anything, and I won't hesitate to shoot." George stated through a grin.

"Please, George. You're like my sister. Like I would try anything with you anyway." George couldn't help but feel the sting of disappointment at his statement, and Dean couldn't help but feel like a liar.

The next morning George woke up feeling something heavy draped across her chest. She started to panic immediately, and reached for her gun. She relaxed when she heard Dean's inaudible grunt, protesting her movement, and realized that they were a tangled mess of arms and legs. She felt almost comfortable in Dean's arms, safe. She heard another grunt coming from the bed beside the one her and Dean shared, and immediately recalled Jo Harvelle falling through her door in the middle of the night speaking of demons and The Roadhouse.

George started to unravel herself from Dean, trying careful not to wake the light sleeper. Waking a hunter could be dangerous, especially one like Dean who kept a rather large hunting knife under his pillow at night. Dean sat up straight as she moved him about. She laughed as he looked around the room confused.

"I'm telling Sam." She laughed. He gave her a confused, tired look.

"What?"

"That you like to cuddle. Who would have thought, Dean Winchester, bad ass hunter, big spooner." She winked and grabbed her things heading into the bathroom before he could reply.


End file.
